Infinite Testament

by Greg Ness

  People turned to him for answers, but even he didn’t know what to believe.

  Stephen set the ELPIS box on the floor in front of him. Next to his feet was an open packing box. He reached into it and fumbled around. He pulled out the first thing he grabbed a hold of: a handwritten letter from Lisa.

  “Don’t give up on me.” Those words rang eternally in his mind. Stephen made a promise. And broke it.

  Stephen stood up, letter in hand, and strolled around the room. He wasn’t walking anywhere in particular. He was just pacing as memories flowed into his mind. The words lifted off the page and right back into his consciousness, like he was reading it for the first time:

  “I know things happened between us that we didn’t plan but I still don’t like thinking about losing you. Sometimes I think you may be better off with someone who won’t hurt you like I did, and someone who is better suited for you, which makes me feel like this move to L.A. is a good thing. Other times I question that. I think in the end though, it’s best for us to move on. I guess we will see when the time comes. I love you. I’m sorry.”

  The feelings associated with the letter resurfaced. His heart again shattered like glass. It was at times like this he understood the appeal of a chance to start over. If there was any indication the past could be changed, Stephen would be first in line to take his life and start anew. He would do just about anything to change the past.

  Vince and Natalie sat in the pews of the church, fulfilling their weekly obligation. It was the summer after Vince’s junior year, and Stephen and Bruce had already graduated. It was a rainy, dreary Sunday and the church was filled with all sorts of people thoughtfully listening to the priest as he gave his homily.

  “Today’s Gospel deals directly with guilt; with regret. These two elements can be a ball and chain on both our feet, stopping us from moving forward. The pain we feel can be unbearable. I recently heard a story of a man who was overwhelmed with the pain of regret. This man was a teacher at a nearby school…”

  Vince sat, listening inattentively. He wasn’t a religious person. He only came to church because Natalie was into it. She talked about God all the time and it meant a lot to her for him to show some interest. For the most part, Vince was bored every Sunday for an hour. Worse, Natalie refused to allow him to read during mass. Despite this, he managed to find ways to entertain himself. The lights hanging from the ceiling were highly amusing. Well, relatively amusing. The patterns of the light fixtures had tiny little X’s where light protruded. Counting them was a challenge; his latest count put them at 333. Then there were the stained glass windows. If church offered any consolation prize for the boredom forced upon him, it was the stained glass windows.

  The priest continued amid Vince’s wandering mind, “…This forgiveness allowed him to move on and work toward a new life. You see, it is through love that we can find the light in ourselves. An aspect of forgiveness often overlooked is how important it is to forgive yourself. We cannot allow our regrets, our past, to dictate our future. We are all born with original sin; we all make mistakes. It is only human to do so.

  “Jesus taught us the importance of forgiveness. As he hung from the cross, he asked for forgiveness for the people who put him there! ‘Father, forgive them! For they know not what they do!’ Ephesians tells us, ‘Be kind and merciful to one another, forgiving one another, just as God has forgiven you in Christ.’ People will hurt us. We will hurt ourselves. But what will hurt us most is if we don’t forgive. If we do not forgive, the pain can lead us to darkness.”

  Vince shifted his attention ahead to the giant crucifix hanging above the altar. Jesus hung lifeless from the cross. It was a sad image but one that inspired millions around the world. Why? It definitely inspired Natalie; she wore a tiny cross around her neck at all times. Vince peered at her. She was conservatively but elegantly dressed. Her attention was fully focused on the priest.

  “Every one of us is born with original sin. We are all born with darkness inside of us. The book of John says, ‘This is the message we have heard from Jesus and proclaim to you: that God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all.’ God is free of darkness. And when we turn our lives, not just to Him, but to love, that is when the light inside of us shines brightest and frees us of the darkness we are born with.

  “To love another is the greatest gift God has given us. To love… is to spread the light of the world.”

  All this talk of light prompted Vince to start counting the little X’s in the light fixtures.

  “Matthew Chapter 5, verse 16: Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works…”

  Bam! A loud noise echoed through the church. Vince turned toward the sound at the entrance. Past all of the pews and parishioners, he saw him: “Stephen?” he muttered under his breath.

  Stephen pounded his hands on the heavy wooden doors, unaware of the noise he was making. He stumbled down the aisle of the church. Vince couldn’t believe what he was seeing: Stephen’s shirt was shredded and he was covered in blood. And it wasn’t his own. As Stephen staggered down the aisle, water poured off his clothes, creating trails on the carpet floor. Where did he come from?

  Stephen looked fanatical and did his best to hold back overpowering tears. He hunched over as he walked, staring at the ground, ashamed to show his face. He stopped and looked at the parishioners, who were just as stunned as Vince. “Is Vince here?”

  The parishioners looked at each other. The priest had no idea what to do; all he could do was stare, horrified. Vince stood up and faced his friend. “What are you doing?”

  Stephen was at his breaking point. “I need to talk to you.”

  Vince looked at the priest and opened his mouth to apologize. What could he possibly say in this situation? Forget the apology. Vince left his pew and ran toward Stephen.

  Stephen caught a glimpse of the crucifix that dawned in front of him. Jesus hung from the cross. What a miserable sight. Nails in his hands, in his feet, and a crown of thorns on his head. If there was a God, he hated Stephen. He had to. Stephen quietly whispered, “How can you allow this to happen?” Jesus didn’t respond. He hung there silently, like a statue. He was a statue. Of course he didn’t respond.

  Vince put his arm around Stephen and led him down the aisle. “What are you doing Stephen? Whose blood is on your shirt?” Vince opened the thick wooden door and proceeded to the main lobby of the church. There, they were out of sight and out of earshot. Stephen glared at Vince. His eyes were heavy with bags that swelled.

  “Vince,” Stephen said, “I screwed up. I really screwed up.”

  “What? What did you do?! Just tell me!”

  Stephen chuckled as he reveled in his grief. “You’re all I have left, Vince.”

  Natalie appeared and shut the wooden door behind her. “What is going on? Stephen, what in the world is wrong? Why do you have blood all over you? Are you hurt?”

  Stephen gazed at Natalie. “I just need to talk to someone. I knew you two would be here. I didn’t know where else to go.”

  Stephen placed Lisa’s letter on the counter and stared at it. He was stuck in a trance of thought. Being with Lisa was the happiest he had ever been. In a flash, it was gone. The promise he had broken irked him everyday.

  Suddenly, Stephen was stricken with déjà vu. He had the strongest inclination he had been here before. These thoughts weren’t new. These sights-the box on the floor, his wrapped couch-he’d seen them in this exact configuration before.

  Looking at the floor, he noticed a glaring omission: the ELPIS box was gone. Vanished. Where did it go? He swore he put it on the floor in front of him before reading Lisa’s letter. But looking toward the couch, all he could see was the packing box. He got on his knees and looked under the couch. Looked in the packing box. He kicked it aside. Nothing.

  Stephen walked back toward Lisa’s letter on the counter. The words, “I love you,” glared at him. Stephen surveyed the area around the letter. Still nothing. Where could the
ELPIS box have gone?

  Stephen would turn around and the ELPIS box would be right where he left it. He was sure of it. He didn’t know how he knew. He just knew. He looked back toward the couch. Sure enough, there it was, right where he thought it would be. Weird. It was like the ELPIS box got up, left, and came back. He must’ve just overlooked it. He had a tendency to lose things. But he looked there. He looked in that exact spot.

  Stephen snatched up the ELPIS box and unlatched it.

  “Don’t give up on me.” Lisa’s words echoed in his mind. He thought he might be losing it. He gripped the lid of the box and started to creak it open.

  Wait.

  There was no point in opening it. He knew what was inside. Opening the box wouldn’t change anything. It would just bring more bad memories. More memories he wanted to forget.

  He slammed the lid shut, re-latched the box, and tossed it aside. He would mail it back to Bruce in the morning. He had no use for it anymore.

  He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  19

  The Final Day-3:25 PM

  The man known as X sat in a chair, awaiting the end of the world he was about to impose. The room was enormously dome-shaped, fiercely dark, and emanated a thick blue hue. In front of X sat a machine that occupied almost the entire dome. The machine was a giant clear circular tube that shot up to the ceiling. In the tube, thick blue fluid spun around at dizzying speeds. Spinning in the opposite direction was what appeared to be fire. The blue fluid and bright orange fire fused together and danced, creating a dazzling spectacle. X watched the marvel of technology sitting in front of him. It was hard to believe this machine was going to obliterate every living thing on the planet.

  It would be only minutes until the end and X had a front row seat. He gripped his trademark weapon with sentimentality. It was a staff he had made, and depending on which way he spun the middle, a blade would come out of the end of his choosing. He had fought and won in several battles with this weapon. It was an exhilarating feeling to wield such a deadly tool and succeed with it. It would have taken the perfect challenger to stop him. He had close calls, as evidenced by the cast on his left hand, but he never had the chance to face such a worthy opponent. X dropped his staff to the ground. It was over. He had no need for it anymore.

  X treaded around the machine, reveling in what he was about to accomplish. He grazed his hand on the handwritten letters at the base of the machine: Keres.

  It bursted with a deafening noise. X thought his head might fly right off. The sound reverberated so intensely he fell to the ground.

  “Looks like you did it.”

  Who said that? There was no one in the room. X was alone. But someone was standing over him. He looked up.

  It was Sara Ixley. She stood in front of him in full color; her appearance unaffected by the blue hue highlighting everything in the room.

  X rose to his feet. “Sara?”

  He stepped toward her. X was overcome with a mix of joy and sadness. Tears willfully streamed from his face. “I’ve missed you so much.” Everything he had done was so he could see her again. He just didn’t expect it to happen until his next lifetime, when he would have the chance to re-do his whole life, or so he believed.

  Sara held out her hand to X’s face and felt the thick scar on his left eye. It traveled from above his eye to right below it. She smiled at him.

  The commanding presence X always carried slipped away. He was now emotionally naked. “I love you, Sara. We’ll do it differently next time.”

  Sara stepped back. The glow emanating from her face disappeared. She furrowed her brow and grew visibly livid. X trembled with fear.

  Sara declared, “Stephen Pandora was not lying. You cannot change things. You’ve made a mistake. You’re going to kill billions of innocent people. And now it’s too late.”

  The machine roared the loudest sound X had ever heard. He held his hands over his ears. The end of the world was minutes away.

  “My old friend wants to say something to you,” Sara said. Despite the enormous noise stemming from the machine, X could still hear. “I’m sorry. But you will never see me again.”

  From behind Sara walked a man. The man, like Sara, was exempt from the blue hue, and retained rich color like he was outside on a sunny day. Also like Sara, he was dead.

  The smiling man emerged and faced X.

  3:32 PM

  Moros, dressed in rags, stood on Venice Beach, staring at the ocean. The water rushed under his feet. The roar of the Keres filled the air and warped the sky to a bright yellow. He had precious seconds left.

  Moros knelt down. He reached into the wet sand below him. Twenty yards in front of him, a blast of water shot off the ocean into the sky. On the surface of the ocean, a ring of fire formed. Only inches high, it blazed in a perfect circle, patiently waiting for him. The ground rumbled and Moros struggled to maintain his balance. It was now or never.

  Moros looked ahead and took off, sprinting toward the ring of fire that laid on the water. He didn’t bother running through the water. Rather he ran on the water. Like it was a simple surface, Moros’s feet pounded as water splashed up from under them. Walking on water (or running, in this case) was not as difficult as one might imagine. Moros had done it plenty of times.

  The world started to stretch. This was it. The ring of fire was just below his feet. He took one last look out at the horizon and took a deep breath.

  Moros jumped down through the ring of fire…

  Everyone on the planet was dead. Everyone except Moros…

  20

  The world ended. Again. Tragedy struck. Again. This is the unfortunate truth of the ILD. How many cycles had the Universe already been through? That is a question no man could ever answer. To hope for a change, to hope for a miracle, would be irrational. The people who killed themselves for a new start did so foolishly. The fate of the Universe cannot be changed. Alas, the Universe was reborn and re-experienced its complete history exactly as it had before.

  Thousands of years before Stephen Pandora existed, somewhere in the desert, were two men. It was a primitive time and the two wore simple tunics to keep themselves clothed. Their feet were laced with rugged sandals as they walked through the empty, vast desert. One man, clearly younger than the other, had short brown hair. His bright, blue eyes entranced anyone who glared into them. The older man, Andrew, sported a dirtier appearance with long blonde hair and followed the young man’s lead.

  They spoke in another language:

  “I don’t understand what you want from me,” Andrew said to the young man.

  “I don’t want anything but information,” replied the young charismatic man.

  Andrew looked at him suspiciously. He wasn’t going to give him any information; he didn’t know him and simply didn’t trust him. The young man impatiently asked, “Do you know who I am?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” Andrew naïvely replied.

  The ground was rough and swamped with thick sand as they walked. The sun blared on them, beating their sweaty flesh with scorching waves of heat that flowed through the air. Unfortunately, they still had at least a mile to go until they reached their destination.

  The young man stopped and grabbed Andrew’s arm. “I am a member of the committee.” His blue eyes caught the attention of Andrew, who blankly stared at him. Surprisingly, Andrew had no idea what he was talking about. The young man couldn’t believe it, “He didn’t tell you about the committee?”

  Andrew pulled his arm away. “I do not know what you speak of.” He walked ahead without the young man, flustered by the confusion planted in his mind. The young man ran to catch up with him. “I want to help you. I just need to know what he’s been saying… I can tell you the truth. The truth of everything.”

  This time it was Andrew who halted the trek through the desert. He faced the frustrating young man who had been bothering him. “I no longer care what you have to say.” He glared deep into his eyes to be sure he knew th
e severity of his statement. Their conversation was over.

  Andrew walked away, leaving the young man alone. It was no matter: the young man would find someone who would help him. The young man, Moros, was not a quitter.

  21

  Generations went by.

  Bruce Dennett was born in St. Joseph, Michigan and his life would prove instrumental in bringing about the end of the world. Bruce lived a different kind of life. Where Stephen’s life was full of the search for answers, Bruce’s was about unexplainable occurrences. He stumbled into one too many mysteries.

  Bruce lay on his back on a grassy knoll with Kristen at his side. It was a beautiful spring day. They had only known each other for a few weeks but he was already considering moving in with her. Deep down, though, the two of them were jealous of the connection Stephen and Lisa had made. Stephen and Lisa were plainly perfect for each other, and while Bruce and Kristen longed to be with one another, it just wasn’t the same. With enough work, perhaps they could truly love each other.

  Bruce and Kristen held hands as they gazed at the clouds floating by above. Abstract visions of a million things came to life. Bruce had always been a fan of cloud watching. The clouds offered endless possibilities that would change every few seconds. Imagination was as big a factor as the physical clouds themselves. One cloud could produce different images to a handful of people. And to Bruce, that was the grand appeal. Floating above him was a heart-shaped cloud. How appropriate, he thought.

  Kristen wasn’t as interested in the clouds. She was annoyed by Bruce’s silence. “Hey Bruce,” she said. “What’s in the box?”

  Bruce reluctantly took his attention from the clouds and gave it to Kristen. Exactly what she wanted. He rolled onto his side and caressed her face with his finger. “What box?”